


come to be by the full moonlight

by freosan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairytale setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: This close to the full moon Prompto always feels a little more aggressive, and, well, he doesn’t think he’s reading Gladio wrong. “Hey,” he says, reaching up to put his hands behind Gladio’s neck. “Don’t freak out on me, okay?”





	come to be by the full moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lhugy_for_short](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/gifts).



The sun is always down by the time Gladio leaves the village at this time of year. Gladio’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. At least there’s a full moon, high up in the sky, reflecting off the snow through the bare trees. The woods are nearly as bright as day. It’s a false safety; there are all kinds of things that come out only at night, moonlight be damned, but at least Gladio can see.

Once upon a time, the village extended all the way out to the Amicitia house. Gladio’s dad used to tell him and Iris stories about that when they were kids. There was a well-worn road between the Caelum house and theirs, and cottages and farmland along it. That was before Gladio was even born.

Now getting from the center of the village out to the Amicitia house can only be done on foot. Gladio’s sister Iris takes care of the house, and Gladio makes the trek out every weekend to help her, but it takes all their combined efforts to keep the woods from swallowing it whole. The road is grown over, and Gladio knows where the tracks used to be but he can’t tell if he’s seeing them or if he’s just imagining that some of the underbrush is a little less wild in some places. It’s the magic, Regis Caelum says; power that belongs the woods and the wild things there.

Gladio doesn’t have magic, not the way the Caelums do, so he keeps a watchful eye out as he walks, and his hand on his belt knife.

He’s nearly to the edge of his sister’s property when he sees the wolf. It’s a too-tall, skinny, pale thing with red eyes that almost seem to glow in the moonlight. It stares at him, just as he stares at it, and it recovers first; it bares its teeth and growls. Gladio’s not a nervous person, but that noise sends a chill right down some forgotten animal part of his brain. He drops his pack at his feet, ready to fight.

The wolf lunges at him with its mouth wide open. Gladio raises his knife and dodges its teeth, just barely. He gets one good slash in on the wolf’s shoulder and it yelps and drops back. It's still baring its teeth, but he can see that it’s favoring its right paw.

He feints for its head and lunges at its flank, and he expects it to bite, but it kicks instead. One powerful hind leg slams into his knife arm and its claws rip through his shirt, laying his bicep open. The knife goes flying out of his hand.

As soon as it sees him bleeding it _runs_ like the hounds of hell are after it. By the time Gladio realizes what’s happening, it’s too far gone to even try to chase.

Iris makes a fuss over him when he comes in bleeding, like he knew she would. It’s not so bad to let her, though. Once she’s got him settled in front of the fireplace with a bandage and a mug of steaming tea, he tells her all about the strange-looking wolf and the stranger way it fought.

Gladio usually heads straight back to the village on Sunday morning, but this time he stays all day, letting Iris assuage her fears. He makes the walk back the next morning - in full sunlight.

—

Prompto’s been living with Noctis for two days. He didn’t mean to stay - he didn’t mean to be here at all, honestly. But he got hurt on the full moon, and Noctis and Ignis found him the morning after, when he was too hungry and in too much pain to make himself move away from civilization. He’d been sure when two black-clad figures showed up that he was going to get arrested or killed, but he just got an invite to Noctis’s house, and Prompto doesn’t have enough willpower to refuse a warm bed and a hot meal when it’s being pressed on him like that. He’ll have to leave before the next full moon, that’s all.

It’s been good, so far. Prompto has his own bed in a corner of Noctis’s room. Noctis doesn’t seem to care where he came from, just that he’s willing to come out fishing and play a few rounds of cards. Ignis, Noctis’s manservant, is more suspicious of him. Prompto’s been trying to be as non-threatening and helpful as possible, and he thinks Ignis will come around.

This morning Prompto’s been enlisted to help Noctis with some errands, which is fine. Noctis has been so welcoming and kind that Prompto would probably kill somebody for him at this point. Carrying his stuff around is nothing.

Noctis doesn’t even ask him to do that, though - his bag disappears into thin air a moment after he picks it up. He smirks when he sees Prompto staring.

“It’s just magic. No big deal,” he says. “Here, put this on.”

‘This’ is a huge black cloak, made of heavy wool, lined in red-dyed fur. Prompto takes a minute to process _that,_ too, and Noctis is already doing up his own cloak by the time Prompto gets the nerve to put it over his shoulders.

“It’s fine, you can wear it if I say you can,” Noctis says. His clothes are pretty much entirely black, so Prompto knew that he was royalty from the second he laid eyes on him, but it’s really hard to believe that he’s handing _Prompto_ something so obviously a sign of royal favor. He looks pleased with himself when Prompto fastens the silver clasp - real silver. Prompto can tell from the way his fingers go numb when he touches it. He hopes his shaking hands just look like another aspect of his nerves.

Ignis, Noctis’s… friend or servant, Prompto hasn’t really figured that out yet… meets them at the front door of the house. He looks at Prompto’s cloak, and though he doesn’t say anything, Prompto can just about imagine his disapproval.

“Well. If we’re bringing Prompto with us, we ought to start near the manor. Are you certain you’re feeling well enough to be out?” Ignis asks him.

Prompto nods. “I’m good, yeah.” His shoulder really does feel better. He’s always healed fast, and the knife he got cut with wasn’t silver. “I’ll let you know if I need to head back.”

“Let’s head to the smithy first. I want Prompto to meet Gladio anyway,” Noctis says. He starts down the street and Ignis and Prompto follow along.

Ignis and Noctis talk quietly about what needs to be done, but Prompto just gawks at the houses and gardens around him. It’s been a long, long time since he’s been in a village like this one, at least during the day. Longer since he’s felt safe doing it. No one here knows what he _is_. It can’t last but he’s going to enjoy the hell out of it while it does.

Noctis doesn’t knock at the smithy, just walks right in through the double doors at the front. A wall of heat hits Prompto in the face, and he pulls off his hood, blinking in the lower light.

“Hey, Gladio,” Noctis says, and the smith looks up.

Prompto _stares_.

The smith is at least a foot taller than Prompto, probably twice his weight, and completely shirtless in the heat of the forge. A tattoo of an eagle covers his shoulders, back, and most of his arms, doing absolutely nothing to conceal the definition of his muscles. On top of that, he’s got long hair pulled back in a topknot and the brightest amber eyes Prompto has ever seen.

“This is Prompto. Prompto, Gladio.”

“Gladiolus Amicita,” Ignis says. Prompto doesn’t recognize the name, but he’s used to not knowing anyone he’s expected to. Besides, Gladio’s reaching out a hand to him.

“Just Gladio’s fine. Pleasure to meet you, Prompto.”

Prompto manages to remember his manners long enough to shake hands. It kind of feels like there should be sparks or something, but Gladio’s hand is just warm and rough. And huge. And could probably crush him. Gods, Prompto’s got to get himself together.

“Prompto’s gonna stay with me for a while,” Noctis says. “He got lost on his way out of Longwythe.”

“You walked here from Longwythe?” Gladio asks, giving Prompto a skeptical look.

“I got attacked,” Prompto tells him, repeating the lie he told Noctis and Ignis when they found him. “They took my horse and most of my stuff, so… I’ve just been walking.”

“Sorry to hear that.” The big guy looks Prompto over, like he’s thinking about something.

It’s not as bad as when Ignis gave him the same searching once-over, though, so Prompto fidgets but doesn’t freak out. “Like what you see?” he asks before Gladio can spend too much time getting suspicious about his story.

Gladio snorts. “Scrawny little thing like you? I’m making sure you ain’t got fleas,” he says. Prompto laughs even though that’s kinda soul crushing.

“One hundred percent flea free,” he assures Gladio with a smile.

Ignis pulls Gladio aside then, to give him the shopping list, Prompto assumes, and he and Noctis are left to hang out a bit away from the forge’s heat.

Noctis tells him a bit about the further places they’re going to visit that day - a couple of villagers’ houses, the baker, the storehouses to check on the grain - but Prompto keeps getting distracted looking over at Gladio. Eventually, the smith turns to the side, and Prompto sees what he hadn’t noticed before in his distraction - the bandage wrapping around the smith’s right bicep, slightly blood-spotted, like the wound is new.

His heart speeds up, and he tries like hell to keep his attention on Noctis’s conversation, after that. He can’t be crushing on the one guy in this town who’s already tried to kill him.

—

“So Noct’s got a new pet, huh?” Gladio asks. He doesn’t really mean it to be patronizing, but it _is_ just like their prince to adopt any stray he happens to find. The five or six cats that prowl the manor house are more than enough proof of that. This one’s prettier than most, but also possibly a lot more dangerous.

“We found him just outside the village two days ago,” Ignis replies. “He was injured, and I admit I did not have the heart to tell Noct to leave him there.”

“Two days ago? He wasn’t injured by a wolf, was he?”

Ignis frowns. “The wound appeared to be from a knife, and rather old. It backs up his story about the bandits, at least.”

“Huh.”

“Is that where you got that bandage you’re wearing?”

“Yeah.” Gladio tells Ignis quietly about the animal he fought. Ignis’s frown is much deeper by the time he’s finished.

“And you say you saw the beast on Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s not a weird season to see wolves out of their range, but the eyes weren’t normal.”

Ignis glances back at Noctis and Prompto, still chattering away in the front of the smithy. “The red eyes do indicate something of supernatural origin. And, of course, that night was a full moon.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gladio asks.

He’s not thrilled about the idea, but Ignis echoes his thoughts. “Would it be so strange? The forest encroaches upon us further every day.”

“I know there’s dark stuff out there, but _werewolves_?”

Ignis shrugs. “It would not be the worst thing that has come out of those woods.”

Gladio nods. Nearly thirty years ago, when Noctis’s father was first crowned prince, there was an uprising from the woods; all the children of the village grew up on superstitions and stories about the things that lived there. A werewolf isn’t that far out of the realm of possibility.

He throws a sidelong look at Prompto, newly arrived in town with a sob story and a knife wound. “How old did you say that injury of his was?”

“It had to have been a week, at least,” Ignis says. “I know. It was my fear, as well. Not werewolves, exactly, but something other than human.”

Gladio sighs. “You’re keeping an eye on him, right?”

“Both of them,” Ignis replies.

—

Prompto begs off from Noctis for an hour a few days later. Noctis is nice enough about it, especially when Prompto says it’s because he’s going down to the smithy. Well, he’s less nice and more smirky, but the effect is the same: Prompto gets his blessing and a firm reminder to be back by lunchtime. That’s so Ignis doesn’t make Noctis eat all his cabbage, probably, but it’s nice to be looked after a bit all the same.

“Just a minute,” Gladio says without looking up, when Prompto walks into the smithy.“Noctis need something?”

“Uh, this one’s for me, actually!” Prompto says. He fidgets with the velvet bag in his pocket, feeling the links of his collar click around inside it.

Gladio glances at him and lifts an eyebrow. “Just a sec,” he repeats, and returns to hammering the red-hot iron on his anvil.

Prompto hops onto the counter to sit and watch Gladio work. There’s no danger of him getting bored. Gladio looks like some kind of golden god as he swings his hammer, lit by the yellow-glowing forge in front of him. Prompto wishes he still had his paints. He’d probably never be able to catch the light right, not after so long without practicing, but he’d sure like to try.

Gladio sinks the metal piece into a bucket of water, and the hissing, spitting steam provides a decent excuse for Prompto’s red face, thankfully. He tosses it to the side where it clatters into a pile of horseshoes.

“So, what’s up?” Gladio asks.

Prompto looks down at the velvet bag in his hands. “I was wondering if you do silver ever? I’ve got something…”

“Yeah, I have done. C’mon, hand it over.”

Prompto hands Gladio the bag without opening it. He doesn’t really want to touch the silver if he doesn’t have to; it’s not like it burns him, the way it can in his other form, but it isn’t pleasant. If he wears it when he’s in human form it just makes him numb, like it’s freezing him to death. Even through the layers of velvet, he can feel that chill.

“It was my father’s. I was sort of hoping you could fix it.”

Gladio takes the bag from him, his fingertips gently brushing against Prompto’s. It makes Prompto wish he had his tail to wag. He takes the bag over to the other side of the table, where the light’s better, and pulls out the broken pieces of the collar - three big ones and a couple of smaller chunks.

Those get laid out on the table, where Gladio inspects them closely. “What happened to this? It looks like heat damage.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, trying not to fidget with the leather bracelet on his right wrist. “There was, uh, a fire. Pretty much nothing worth saving out of the house, except that.”

“This is practically pure. You could buy yourself a new horse with this. Get to wherever you were headed." Gladio looks at him across the table, frowning. Prompto hunches down where he sits. Even half bent over the table, Gladio _looms_.

“Yeah, well, honestly, they’re family, but they don’t know me that well. They knew my parents,” Prompto tells him, which is true - and why they probably don’t want to see him anytime soon. “I don’t want to just show up on their doorstep.”

“Like you did on Noct’s?” Gladio challenges him.

Prompto feels his face flush. “I didn’t _mean_ to. He found me.”

Gladio looks at him for a long time, still practically glowering. Prompto’s pretty sure he’s about to get kicked out when Gladio says, “I can do it. I’ll have to get the silver in. This stuff is nearly pure - we just don’t have a lot of it around.”

Thank all the gods. “How long will it take?”

“It might be a few weeks.”

Prompto tries not to let on how nervous that makes him. A few weeks could be just fine, a few weeks plus one day could be a disaster. “Okay,” he says. “That’s fine. I mean, it’s better if you do it right!”

“It’ll cost,” Gladio warns. “In work, if you don’t have money.”

“I don’t. But I’ll do whatever you need!” Prompto hastens to add. He has a fleeting thought of offering to pay in sexual favors, but it remains firmly in the realm of fantasy.

“Be here on Monday morning at dawn and we’ll see about that.”

“I will be!”

That seems to be that. Gladio nods and goes back to work. Prompto, with a glance - maybe two - behind him, heads back to Noctis’s house.

—

Gladio keeps the pieces of the necklace safely tucked away until that weekend, when he’s home and away from the eyes of potential thieves. He lays them out on the kitchen table where there’s enough light to see the intricate patterns.

Iris comes over to check them out once she’s got dinner going. “What’s this, a new project?”

“Yeah, Noct’s new friend asked me to work on something.” He’s told her all about Prompto, of course. Iris thinks it’s the sweetest thing imaginable that the Prince is helping out someone who got attacked in the woods. Gladio still isn’t sure how sweet it is, but seeing Prompto handle silver has gone some way towards making him feel better about it.

He turns one of the links over in his fingers. It’s going to be a delicate job to duplicate them, but he thinks he can get close enough.

“It’s pretty,” Iris says, touching one of the pieces. “That’s pure silver, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. Kind of a weird choice for jewelry, but he says it’s a family heirloom.”

“Well, you have to fix it for him, then.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll need to send to the city for the material, though.”

Iris squeals. She hasn’t been to the city in years, since their father left. “Ooh, can I go?”

“Not a chance,” Gladio says. “You think I’m letting you travel in the winter? I’ll ask Dave when he heads out.”

Iris pouts, but concedes. She’s adventurous but not foolhardy. Besides, Gladio needs her help here. That weekend, they reinforce the shed and the fences around the livestock and the house, making sure everything is prepared to defend against a hungry, intelligent wolf.

—

Noctis seems pleased that Prompto’s going to work for Gladio, but Prompto’s not sure he should be. He’s never had a real job of any kind before. Odds are good he’s going to make an idiot out of himself, or burn the forge down, or… something.

“You won’t burn the forge down,” Noctis says, flicking his fishing rod again so that the lure plops neatly into the half-frozen water of the lake. “It’s literally designed to be fireproof.”

“Okay but like what if I, I don’t know, ruin a sword or something?” Prompto flops on his back in the snow on the bank. They’ve been out here for a couple of hours, now, while Noctis tries to catch something fresh for dinner. So far he’s managed to pull two smallish fish. Prompto doesn’t really mind. He’s enjoying the novelty of being warm outside during the winter.

“The last time Gladio made a sword was when I turned sixteen. It’s not like we need them that often.”

“You would _not_ be this calm if this was your first job,” Prompto accuses.

Noctis shrugs. “Probably not. Why are you worried? Gladio’s a good teacher. He won’t give up on you that easily.”

Prompto sighs. He’s told Noctis some of what brought him here, and Noctis knows he doesn’t want to move on. Maybe he should’ve kept that secret, so when the next full moon comes he can run off if he has to without making anyone worried.

—

Prompto turns out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to the smithy.

Well, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He doesn’t have the brute strength needed for a lot of the work Gladio does, and he whines a lot. But he’s smart and fearless, and quick to make suggestions when he sees things that he thinks he can fix; and soon enough Gladio figures out that Prompto always does everything he’s asked, even if he complains the whole time.

Within a week, he’s got the furnace running more efficiently than it ever has; Gladio’s pretty sure he could start casting iron if he tried. It’s good to have a second set of hands around to do all the little things that he hasn’t had time to. And it’s just plain nice to have a friend around. Back before Ignis got so busy handling things for Noct, he used to come visit Gladio a lot, and Gladio finds himself falling into the same kind of easy conversations with Prompto.

And Prompto looks damn good when he’s working, all sweaty from the fire with ash in his bright blond hair. That’s not something Gladio ever thought about Ignis. It’s probably not something he should be thinking about someone as objectively suspicious as Prompto, either, but Prompto’s so intensely bright and cheerful that it’s hard to think about him as something that came out of the woods.

—

Two and a half weeks in, Prompto’s starting to get nervous. The moon in the sky goes from waning to new to waxing crescent, and he stares at it for too long every night through Noct’s bedroom window, willing it not to get any bigger. Doesn’t work, of course. It never has.

Maybe it’ll be okay. Prompto survived one full moon here without anybody else being the wiser. Even if he did find Gladio. But he only didn’t hurt him because Gladio fought back; it’s not like he’s any better at control without the collar. He’s going to have to move on.

“I got the silver in,” Gladio tells him when he gets in the next morning. No matter how early Prompto gets in, even when he’s been awake since the night before, Gladio’s always up and working before he’s there.

“That’s great!” Prompto says, already stripping off his cloak and gloves. “Does that mean you’ll be starting soon?”

“Sure does.” Gladio spares Prompto a second glance when he hangs up his shirt, and Prompto quietly smiles to himself. With the scars the collar’s left around his neck he can’t go completely topless, the way Gladio usually does, but he gets so sweaty working in the smithy that he’s had to get used to wearing a sleeveless shirt.

The way he catches Gladio checking him out sometimes doesn’t hurt either.

“That’s awesome, thanks,” he says. He knows what his job is by now; it’s not like it varies much, and he checks on the fuel and water levels before heading over to the bellows to pump up the fire for the ore that’s smelting.

Gladio catches him on his way there. “Can you grab the silver for me? It’s on the top shelf in the back room. I want to get working on it.”

“You want to work on it now?” Prompto asks. Hopefully his high pitch comes off as excitement rather than fear.

“No time like the present. Go fetch.”

Prompto tries to think of ways to avoid it, but it’s only about fifteen steps to the back room and that’s not a lot of time to think. The small chunk of silver is sitting, bare and shining with quiet malice, right where Gladio said it would be.

Okay. He can do this. He just has to be quick about it. He grabs the thing in his bare hand, wincing as it sends a cold shock up his arm, and rushes back to Gladio. Prompto’s been doing way better about not tripping over stuff on the floor of the smithy, but he stubs his toe twice on uneven flooring on the way back to Gladio. Then he trips over the wooden barrier that separates the forge from the rest of the floor.

Once or twice Gladio’s let him just fall over it - says it’ll toughen him up. This time, though, Gladio catches him before he can hit the floor.

“Thought you were over being clumsy,” Gladio says, putting him back on his feet. He doesn’t get out of Prompto’s way, though. He stays _right_ in his space, and Prompto can feel the heat of his body even over the numbing chill of the silver in his hand.

“What’s the matter?” Gladio asks.

Prompto sure as hell can’t tell him the truth. Or… _that_ truth. There’s another option. “I guess you make me nervous, big guy,” he says, smiling.

“Do I,” Gladio drawls. Prompto shrugs, and hands him the silver, sighing in relief when Gladio takes it from his hand. Gladio lifts an eyebrow and puts it on the counter without moving away.

The proximity is starting to be too much to handle. This close to the full moon Prompto always feels a little more aggressive, and, well, he doesn’t _think_ he’s reading Gladio wrong. “Hey,” he says, reaching up to put his hands behind Gladio’s neck. “Don’t freak out on me, okay?”

“What’re you thinking I’ll freak out about?” Gladio asks. He’s still, frustratingly, too tall to kiss, and not bending down at all.

“Get down here so I can _do_ it. I’m not embarrassing myself for nothing,” Prompto complains.

Gladio grins. For a second Prompto thinks he really _has_ embarrassed himself, but then Gladio leans down and cups his cheek in one hand, gentle as anything despite the calluses on it, and kisses him.

It’s good. Gods, it’s _so_ good. Gladio tastes like honey, probably from his breakfast, but more importantly, he smells like… wood fires and metal and wool, homey, _human_ things that Prompto hasn’t gotten to appreciate since he was young. And then his tongue is lapping at Prompto’s lips, and Prompto opens his mouth to let him in.

Gladio _picks him up_ , both his huge hands squeezing Prompto’s ass as he lifts him right off the ground, and Prompto moans with how light-headed he feels.

“You like that?” Gladio asks, with a laugh in his ear.

Prompto nods and puts his face right into the crook of Gladio’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of sweat and smoke and… oh, gods. He forgets himself and licks a stripe right up Gladio’s neck, ending with a nibble on his earlobe. That kind of thing is… too _animal_ , almost gross, he’s been told, but when he looks for any sign of disgust in Gladio’s face, Gladio just grins. “That was hot,” he says, and cups the back of Prompto’s head in one hand to kiss him again, hard.

Prompto wraps his legs around Gladio’s waist and kisses back. Seemingly without effort, Gladio hitches him up a little higher and puts him on the counter at the back of the room. Prompto’s feet dangle, but it leaves him at just the perfect height to tilt his head up and get his mouth on Gladio’s again, and that’s all that really matters.

—

The thing with the silver reassures Gladio pretty well about Prompto being human. He was fine with holding it; all the stories say that werewolves suffer burns from silver, and will go to extreme lengths to avoid it.

He presents this theory to Ignis the next time Ignis comes by on his own. Ignis rolls his eyes and says, “Are you certain you aren’t only trying to avoid being branded a lycanthrophile?”

“I mean, I did make him howl,” Gladio says.

Ignis doesn’t dignify that with a direct response, which is for the best, probably. “He does not seem to have any designs against Noctis. And Noctis is… very pleased, I think, to have found a friend.”

“So we’re good, right? He’s safe.”

“I shall be more comfortable if the next full moon passes without any attacks, but for the time being, at least, I may let my guard down.”

“Don’t worry, Iggy. If it comes down to it, you know I’ll take care of him.”

Ignis tilts his head. “Will you, I wonder.”

—

Prompto always knows exactly when the full moon is coming. He can feel the moonlight starting to pull him as it waxes, making him irritable and aggressive. Two days before it he snaps at Noctis, for the first time ever, and earns Ignis’s displeasure.

“Perhaps you ought to go to the market for us,” Ignis says, coldly, handing him the basket that Noctis usually keeps stashed in his magical pockets when they go out. “His Highness has many duties at home and will not need your company today.”

_I could rip your throat out_ , Prompto thinks, and then in his horror at himself nods and rushes off before he can say anything else in response.

He does the errands he knows needs doing, and that keeps him busy for most of the morning. It doesn’t make him any calmer, though; it’s not like the moon is going anywhere, much as Prompto often wishes it would, and he can still feel the aggression growing.

The smithy seems like a way better bet than going back to Noctis’s house, even though it’s still his day off. Luckily it’s on his way back. Prompto ducks inside on his way out.

“Gladio?”

Gladio stands up from checking on the furnace and dusts his hands off. “Prompto? What’s up?” he asks.

There’s no reason to control himself, no way he can, and Prompto doesn’t even try. He all but launches himself at Gladio, climbing him so he can give him a demanding, searching kiss. Gladio falls right into it, his surprised noise melting into a quiet groan as Prompto

They’ve made out a couple of times over the last week, but they haven’t gone any farther than that since the first time. Prompto thinks Gladio’s a little surprised when he puts his hand right on the bulge in Gladio’s pants and gropes him firmly. Surprised, but not even a little bit mad. When he breaks the kiss he winks at Prompto, and then suddenly Prompto is being slung over his shoulder, as gently as that’s possible to do. He yelps anyway. Gladio pats his ass.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“Not that far,” Gladio tells him. “My bedroom’s right in the back.”

True to his word, they only go through the storage room, where Gladio pauses for a minute to open the little door that Prompto’s never been through before, and then Prompto’s suddenly being laid on his back on a soft surface. A bed. Gladio’s bed, he figures out belatedly.

“You okay?” Gladio asks, leaning over him. “Figured we should do this the right way this time. But no pressure.”

“No this is good,” Prompto says in a rush. “This is… really good.” He reaches up, buries his hand in Gladio’s hair, and pulls him in to kiss. That’s even better, as Gladio gets into it and drapes himself over Prompto’s body. Prompto spreads his legs to encourage him and Gladio climbs onto the bed, putting one huge thigh in between Prompto’s legs for him to grind on. Before long Prompto’s panting and grinning into Gladio’s mouth, all of his wild restless energy finding new focus in the pleasure of Gladio’s body above him. 

Gladio puts his hand under Prompto’s shirt, pushing it up like he’s going to take it off, and Prompto grabs his wrist. Gladio gives him a concerned look. “No?”

Prompto shakes his head. “Just the shirt though. Leave that on. Don’t stop?”

Gladio understands his babbling, thank gods, and he pulls his hands back down to Prompto’s waist, the touch of his rough fingers setting every one of Prompto’s nerves on fire on the way. “Can I take your pants off?”

“Oh my god yes please,” Prompto says. With a grin, Gladio does just that.

—

Gladio’s practically whistling when he gets up for work the next morning, he’s so pleased with himself. Prompto didn’t stay the night, but he’ll be back to work soon. Gladio doubts they’re going to get a lot done today. He doesn’t mind at all.

He grins when he hears the door opening, dropping his hammer so he can come around the bench and sweep Prompto up in a hug. But the look on Prompto’s face stops him cold. Prompto looks _terrified_.

“Gladio. I need your help,” he says.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, reaching out for Prompto, hoping to give comfort. But Prompto pulls away from him.

“I need you to get that necklace.”

“I’m headed up to the house tonight. I can bring it back for you on Sunday.”

“That’s… that’s too late. I’m sorry. I need it tonight.”

“You _need_ it, huh?” Gladio asks. The only thing he can imagine is that Prompto’s finally decided he’s done having his fun and he’s ready to head out, because what the hell else would you _need_ a necklace for? He just can’t square that with Prompto from yesterday, all laughter and eagerness in his bed. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”

Prompto takes a step back from him, turning away with his head tucked in. He looks like he thinks Gladio’s going to hit him. Gladio steps back, folds his arms, and waits.

“It’s the full moon tomorrow,” Prompto says.

It’s all he has to say, really. Gladio jumps right to conclusions, guilty fear twisting his stomach. “This is about the werewolf, isn’t it?”

Prompto nods. Gladio forgets his good intentions and grabs him by the front of his cloak. “What the hell are you trying to do? I thought -” he stops. _Thought we had something_? No, that’s not what’s important right now. “We let you stay in our prince’s _house_.”

Prompto flails, but he doesn’t fight, his tightly fisted hands staying away from Gladio’s body. “I’d never hurt Noctis. Or you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You already did once,” Gladio reminds him.

“I know. My collar was broken. That’s why I needed…”

“I know silver doesn’t hurt you, so why the hell would that matter?”

Prompto’s eyes widen. Gladio’d felt guilty about testing him, but now he’s just so _angry_.

“Let me show you,” Prompto says. “I need to - let go of me for a second. You’ll see.”

Gladio drops the handfuls of Prompto’s coat and steps back. Prompto shoves his sleeve up and unlaces the leather bracelet he always wears. When his wrist is free, he shows it to Gladio, almost defiant as he brandishes what looks like a half-healed wound - the teeth of a wolf, imprinted deep in his flesh.

“I was bitten when I was a baby. But I've never bitten anyone else. If I can just get that collar on, I’ll be harmless. I swear.”

Gladio grabs his arm, inspecting the marks. It looks awful - if it was from anything else, he'd say it'd need stitches to heal right. But he knows how this works. The bite that makes a werewolf won't ever fully heal. “Fine. You’re coming with me, though. I’m not letting a wolf loose in town.”

Prompto flinches like Gladio’s hit him. “Okay. That makes sense,” he says quietly.

They trudge through town and out into the woods equally quietly. Prompto’s finally subdued, which Gladio shouldn’t feel so bad about. He’s apparently been living a lie since he got here.

It’s painfully awkward bringing Prompto home with him. Iris has heard about him, of course, so she’s excited - until she goes in for the hug, and Gladio says, “Don’t touch him.”

She and Prompto both freeze. Iris recovers first; she puts a hand on her hip and glares at him. “And why exactly not?” she demands.

Gladio hesitates, but Prompto doesn’t. “I’m dangerous right now,” he says. “I’m gonna… change, pretty soon.”

“Change how?” Iris asks.

"He's the werewolf I met last month," Gladio says, quietly. "Prompto, my room's down the hall that way. The collar's on my dresser. Go put it on."

Prompto goes where Gladio bids him, with a nod to Iris, who grabs his hand quickly and gives it a squeeze as he walks past. Gladio sees Prompto jump in surprise. As soon as the bedroom door closes behind him, Iris rounds on Gladio.

“He doesn’t stop being a _person_ just because he’s a _werewolf_ , Gladdy! You better not kick him out.”

“How would you know about werewolves?”

“What do you think I do in this house all day, cook and clean? I’ve read all the books Dad left. _He_ said that werewolves are cursed, not evil.”

Gladio looks at her. She’s only sixteen, just barely a woman, but it’s true she’s been keeping this house for years now. She’s had more time than he ever had to understand these things. And unlike him, she’s never let her temper get in the way of her better instincts.

He glances towards his bedroom door, and Iris’s face softens. “Besides, you like him, don’t you? It would be pretty awful to kick your boyfriend out into the snow.”

Gladio shakes his head. “If he’s as harmless as he says he’ll be, I won’t. Maybe we should go in the shed just in case, though.”

“You will not put a guest out in the shed.”

“And what am I supposed to do if he hurts you, Iris?”

Iris shakes her head and draws something out of the bodice of her dress. Gladio stares. The thing is a silver dagger, a hand’s-breadth long and wickedly pointed; she holds it with a familiar grip. Gladio had no idea she’d gotten hold of such a thing. She must have made it herself; no one else in town could have.

“He won’t hurt me if I have anything to say about it.” The knife disappears again into her dress and she nods towards the door. “Go make him feel better, Gladdy.”

Before Gladio does, he sweeps his sister up in a hug. She laughs and hugs him back, letting her feet come right off the ground. When he puts her down he kisses her on the forehead. “Thanks, Iris.”

When Gladio enters the room, Prompto has his back to the door, staring at the collar laid out on Gladio’s dresser. “I always kinda hated this thing,” he says, his hands hovering over it. He’s taken his shirt off and Gladio can see burn marks at the back of his neck.

“The silver do that to you?” he asks. He doesn’t really need to. There’s perfect squares, just like the links, scarred into Prompto’s skin.

“Yeah,” Prompto says. “It burns if it touches skin, when I’m changed.”

“And you want to wear it the whole time.”

“It’s the only way I’ll definitely be safe,” Prompto says. “You won’t take it off me, right? I need to know. I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I won’t,” Gladio promises. He wraps his arms around Prompto from behind like he can protect him from himself. Prompto’s shoulders are tense, but he lets Gladio hold him while he puts the collar around his neck and latches it.

“I should get my clothes off,” Prompto mutters after a minute. “Get messed up otherwise.”

Gladio helps him off with his boots and pants. He can see now how much the silver affects Prompto even in his human form; his hands won’t hold steady and his fingers and toes feel cold. Gladio kneels between his legs, holding his hands between his own, trying to warm him up.

“You don’t have to stay,” Prompto says. “It’s going to be… bad.”

“I’m staying. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The shock and hope in Prompto’s eyes nearly kills him. Gladio kisses his fingers. He was afraid that coming in here was going to be a huge mistake, but now he’s sure that not coming would’ve been worse.

Prompto picks his head up, sniffing the air, like a dog. “It’s going to start soon. I should get on the floor.”

“Just lay on the bed,” Gladio says. “Probably be more comfortable, right?”

He thinks Prompto almost says something, but just then it must start, because his eyes go wide and his mouth opens, his lips peeled back like a wolf caught mid-snarl. He convulses and nearly falls from the bed. Gladio catches him before he hit the floor and lays him on the mattress - then he steps back.

Prompto wasn’t wrong about it being bad, is about the best he can say about it. It doesn’t take long, though. Soon the huge, skinny, pale wolf Gladio remembers is sitting on his bed, its claws - too sharp for a true wolf - tearing rents in the sheets as it tries to regain its bearings.

It shakes its head and the silver collar settles deeper in its fur; with a yelp, it stops moving, and drops its head. Like a dog that’s been kicked, Gladio thinks. It notices him for the first time, then, and though it’s growling low in its throat, its glowing eyes are pleading.

Gladio sighs. He knows it’s dangerous, but right now he’s seeing a lot more of Prompto in those red eyes than he’d ever expected to.

Prompto calms when Gladio touches his face. Carefully, slowly, Gladio slips his fingers under the collar, lifting it away from Prompto’s skin. Prompto sighs heavily and relaxes.

He doesn’t mean to, but with the tame wolf - with Prompto pressed up against him, breathing steadily now that the silver isn’t touching his skin, he falls asleep sometime during the night.

He wakes up in dim winter sunlight, with a naked - and human - Prompto in his arms. Prompto wakes up while Gladio’s undoing the clasp on the collar, getting the silver as far away from him as possible.

“You stayed,” Prompto says, wide-eyed and almost worshipful as he leans over Gladio’s chest. Gladio smiles and kisses him, sleepy and slow, not feeling like he wants to talk just yet.

Prompto gives him an apologetic look and rolls off of him, picking up his pants and stepping back into them.

“What’re you doing?” Gladio asks. _He_ doesn’t make a move to get out of bed.

Prompto looks at him like he’s gone insane. “I’ll head out. It’s fine. I’ve never really stayed in one place before for this long.” He smiles, and it looks forced again.

“The hell you will,” Gladio says. He grabs Prompto’s wrist and pulls him right back into bed. “Stay here. I’ll make breakfast. You can meet Iris for real.”

“Yeah? Yeah! I’d like that,” Prompto says, smiling.

“Good.” Gladio pulls him close for one more kiss.


End file.
